


The Mark of the Gods

by NightsMistress



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: F/F, Fix-It, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-14 18:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13595988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/pseuds/NightsMistress
Summary: Once, the sibling gods Duma and Mila walked the land of Valentia together. During this time, children were born with marks identifying them as soulmates to someone who followed another god, and causing them to quest from one side of the land to the other for their soul's twin. Then Valentia was split into Zofia and Rigel, and it was much harder for soulmates to find one another. As time passed, the reason for the soulmark was lost, and those marked were considered cursed by fate. That is, until a lost Zofian princess travelled to the north to save a god.Genny has been marked her whole life, and has grown used to the dull ache in her soul and a lack of romantic interest in the people around her. She is therefore very surprised when she finds out that Grieth's mage, Sonya, is a stunningly attractive woman.





	The Mark of the Gods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ackermanx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermanx/gifts).



Once, the sibling gods Duma and Mila walked the land of Valentia. Walked, and fought, for Duma believed that people would become strong through adversity while Mila believed that it was the role of gods to assume hardship in place of their people. They fought for a bitter age before the divine accord was forged, splitting the land of Valentia and its people in twain.

But people are not easily divided. Before the accord babes were sometimes born marked with a gods’ thumbprint, a sign that they were fated to find their soul’s twin elsewhere: to the north for a babe born to Mila’s people, and the south for a child of Duma. The births of the gods’ touched continued after the accord was forged, and these marks became a mark of misfortune and hardship. Some fortunate few were able to find their soul’s twin, but most were destined to never complete their soul and lived their lives nursing an ache that lacked a name.

Until the day that a long-lost princess of Zofia and her retinue journeyed to the north in search of a peaceful solution to the war between her country and Rigel.

* * *

The battle for Grieth’s Citadel had been grueling. Deen’s forces had been well-trained, more than a match for Celica and her band of friends and allies, and Genny thought that they had only made it through thanks to Mila’s blessing. The injuries from the battle were minor and responded readily to healing spells, but each spell drew from Genny until her bones ached from it.

She healed an arrow wound from a soldier who had fought under Grieth’s banner, sighing in pained relief as the gouge knitted closed under the force of her magic. His shoulders relaxed from a hunched shell as the spell took effect, and he looked up at her for the first time since he had been brought in by his limping friend.

Now that his face was no longer lined with pain she could see that he was a relatively handsome sort, a little older than her with a broken nose that added to his charm. He looked like the hero in one of the books she had read recently, one where the hero swept up the lovestruck heroine and took her to his castle. He was interesting, but such things were not for her, not one born with Duma's thumbprint on her hip.

“Thank you, milady,” he stammered, ducking his head. “If only all of Mila’s servants were like you.”

She didn’t understand what he meant and was too muddled to puzzle it out. He stared at her a moment too long for comfort before nodding jerkily and taking his leave. He was the last of her patients, and so Genny spared a moment to close her eyes and let her head rest against the back of the chair she was sitting in. She sighed, long and weary, and wondered whether she should call for Mae to help her retire to their shared rooms for the night.

The knock on the door startled her from her half doze and she sat up in a hurry. She grunted as the movement jarred bruises and strains from the battle, but gritted her teeth against any further protest.

“Come in!” she called, rubbing at her face and wincing as her fingers brushed against sunburn. “Are you injured?”

The door opened and a tall woman dressed in form fitting clothes strode in. Genny looked up in surprise and as her tired eyes focused on the woman her mouth went dry. She stared, and despite knowing she was being very rude by staring, she couldn’t bear to look away.

The soldiers had gossiped about Grieth’s mage, how she was terrifying and dangerous like a sword blade that would coolly cut you without thinking about it. They had spoken in hushed whispers about the magical forces she could conjure and speculated that she had tamed elementals themselves to be her servants. She was more of a force of nature than a person, untouchable and undefeated.

No one had ever said she was beautiful. She was, stunningly so. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders like a steady stream of water, her gaze was quick and bright as she looked around the infirmary as if she owned every inch of it, and as she strode into the infirmary her long boots drew Genny’s eye to her impossibly long legs. Genny could feel her blush spread as she forced her gaze to go above Sonya’s thighs as Sonya’s outfit highlighted her breasts and hips, accentuating already impressive curves. On anyone else it would have looked ridiculous. On Sonya, it looked right.

She swallowed. She was acutely aware of her appearance right now: skin reddened by the sun and sand, and sweat and blood smeared on her dirty clothes that hung on her like a sack. She looked nothing like Sonya, who oozed cool confidence. Genny smoothed her hair down with an anxious hand, which did nothing to calm the riot of curls, and Sonya’s expression shifted to something almost akin to wry appreciation. Then it was gone and Sonya’s expression was cool and confident as it always had been. Perhaps Genny had imagined that it had been anything else. It had been a long day and she had been conjuring magic for most of it.

“You must be Genny,” Sonya said. Genny blinked. No one had said she had sounded as lovely as she looked as well.

“Uh, yes!” she said quickly, trying to cover her rapture. “I am! Are you injured?”

“No,” Sonya said. “You didn’t fight my forces, remember?”

“Right, of course” Genny said, looking down at her hands. There was dirt and blood underneath her fingernails, and the fingers were scratched and weather-beaten from the battle with Deen. She had been the one to finish him off with a lucky Nosferatu, and her hands still trembled from residual nerves if she didn’t watch them closely. “I'm sure you've been told that it was me who finished the battle. I'm sorry. You must have been close.”

“Not especially,” Sonya said with a little one-shoulder shrug. “It was a battle, and Deen and Grieth both fought knowing they'd lose. And now that my employer is dead, I'll be joining your little band.”

Genny’s head snapped up from her embarrassed study of her hands. “You will?”

“That’s what I said.” Sonya raised an eyebrow. “Why? Do you think I cannot be trusted?”

Genny shook her head rapidly. “No! Of course not! If Celica says it’s all right then it is. I'm happy that you've joined us. Everyone says that you're so good at magic, there's lots I'm sure we could learn from you.”

“Well then.” Sonya smiled. “It's nice to be appreciated. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, Sonya left. Now that she was not in the room, Genny could catch her breath. She was still dazed by Sonya, but also colder by her absence. The mark on her hip ached and she rubbed it absently. Perhaps there was a bruise there that she hadn’t noticed earlier.

* * *

 Celica’s forces strived on towards the north, and Genny found herself stationed near Sonya more often than not. She had said nothing as Celica had outlined her plan for each battle, hoping that her secret delight wasn’t as transparent as she thought it might be. Celica’s impish smile as she assigned the positions for this particular suggested that she was less subtle than Genny might have hoped. It would be something to think about later, once this battle was won.

The battle went well at first, with Celica’s forces gaining ground steadily, her mercenaries shielding the more fragile mages as they prepared their magical incantations. Genny shielded herself with her illusionary warriors and flung her most potent magic at any enemy within range, and thought herself safe.

Then a lucky arrow slipped through their defensive line, screaming past Genny with terrible force. She whipped around, heart in her throat, knowing where it would land.

Sonya sagged, the arrow sprouting from her hip like a hideous flower. Her hands were already around the shaft of the arrow, and despite the pain that Genny knew she must be feeling, she gripped it tightly. She looked at Genny and nodded before pulling the arrow out and casting it aside in one motion. The only sound she made was a pained grunt, barely audible over the ringing in Genny’s ears, and then she collapsed.

Genny moved without thought, rushing to Sonya’s side. She heard Leon return fire, his arrows finding their mark from the scream, but she had other things on her mind. _Please, Mother Mila, let this work,_ she prayed as she brought her staff up to cast Physic. She staggered as the magic took its toll on her and blinked spots away from her vision.

Sonya looked better as the magic began to work, the lines of pain on her face easing and the arrow wound closing up as Genny watched. The blood remained, shockingly red against Sonya’s fair skin, even as it started to dry in the arid heat. She could barely see it against Sonya’s robes, but years of laundry duty at the priory had made it clear that blood stains had to be soaked as quickly as possible or risk having nice clothes marked forever.  
Genny looked around to see whether there were any enemy forces nearby before pulling Sonya towards the relative shelter of some stunted trees. Sonya was heavier than she looked, a limp dead weight in Genny’s arms as she pulled her under the shade of a tree, but she didn’t seem to be in pain. She was just unconscious, presumably from the initial shock of the arrow wound, and Genny thought she would wake up soon.

In the meantime, there was work left to be done. She poured water from her canteen, sluicing the blood away with careful splashes of water. Fortunately the blood had not had time to dry.

Underneath the blood though was a mark, stark against Sonya’s skin. Genny’s breath caught in her throat. She knew that mark, as she bore its twin on her own skin and had never thought to find someone else marked as she was. She reached out to touch the mark, intending to only give it the most fleeting of touches. Instead, when her fingers brushed the skin, powerful magic held her in place, thrilling her and setting her heart to racing.

For so long there had been something missing inside her, an aching void that she didn’t know the words to express or address. She had tried to fill it with stories of romance and adventure, occupy her mind and time with her magical studies, and had gone along with Celica’s quest with only a murmur of protest. It was a bittersweet pain she had come to accept, even appreciate, as being part of her. The magic filled that gap, soothing that need, and finally she understood why she stared at Sonya so much. Why she needed Sonya so much. She felt fulfilled and satiated for the first time.

The magic faded and Genny struggled to catch her breath. Her skin felt tingly and she was both tired and exhilarated. Sonya had awakened at some point during the spell, flushed and sweaty, and she also struggled to catch her breath. Now that she was awake Genny could feel Sonya inside her soul, completing her.

“Oh,” Genny managed as the euphoria started to fade. “I didn’t expect that.”

Sonya sat up, smoothing her hair back over her shoulder with one hand. She looked calm and her hand was steady, but Genny could feel her shock and anxiety as she looked around.

“I don’t see anyone,” Sonya said. “Is the battle over?”

“No,” she said. She gulped and looked around wildly for signs of enemy forces. “I don’t think so.”

“We’re sheltered here, and we have our magic,” Sonya said. She sighed. “I should have known one of you also had the Maiden’s Mark. The gods have their own little jokes, it seems.”

“The Maiden’s Mark?”

“It’s how witches are made,” Sonya said. “The cantors look for girls with the mark and bring them to Duma. Duma then fills the missing part of their soul with power, and makes them what they are.”

Genny swallowed, feeling dizzy and sick. Mila would never do such a thing; she loved her children and though Genny had been marked Mila had invited her into her Temple and given her magic freely. She had felt lonely, yearning for something she didn’t know the words for, but Sonya would have known she had a death sentence on her the whole time.

“That’s horrible,” Genny said faintly. “Is that … is that what was going to happen to you? At the priory, I mean.”

“No. I’d rather die first.” Sonya’s fierce determination was unmistakeable, though Genny could feel the terrible resignation inside her. “I’ll just have to remember to look out for you too in case the cantors work it out.”

Genny shook her head in bewilderment. Everything was moving so quickly, and she didn’t know what to focus on first.

“But we’re … um … connected now.” She blushed, remembering the intimate feeling of earlier. “How can Duma turn us into witches now that we’ve found each other?”

Sonya’s answer was an elegant one-shouldered shrug. “Who knows the ways of the gods?”

“Then, what should we do?”

“Keep it a secret,” Sonya said solemnly. “Tell no one.”

When Genny had read her books, she had found the idea of a secret romance a lovely thing, and hadn’t understood why the heroines had struggled with it. Now, she understood. She wanted nothing more than to tell Celica and Mae her good fortune, and confide in them her nebulous hopes for the future.

“Not even Celica?” she asked. She was reminded of Celica’s impish smile as she assigned persons to locations and thought that their secret was already out of the bag. “I think she suspects something already. She hasn’t said anything, but she has been placing us close together for a while now.”

Sonya shook her head. “The cantors want her more than anything. Say nothing that would betray us.”

“All right.” Genny giggles, more out of nerves than genuine amusement at their situation. “It’s funny. I always wanted to have a secret romance.”

Sonya smiled, its edges razor-sharp, and said wryly, “Romance, huh. I’ll have to remember that later. For now, we fight.”

“Right,” Genny said, and she helped Sonya to her feet. It would be a terrible thing to fall now that she had found her soulmate. She didn’t know what this would mean for her in the future, but she thought she could keep their romance a secret for some time. After all, she had read a lot in her years at the priory, and knew how to react when people asked prying questions. A coy smile, a playful 'it's a secret', all of these would work to distract people, especially as Sonya was an older woman rather than the older men that Genny had been admiring.

As she ducked an arrow, Sonya’s pleasure warming her, she thought that a secret romance wouldn’t be so bad at all.

* * *

 

It was only after the twin gods fell that the soul-marked were able to find hope that they would not become a witch either by choice or coercion. As news of Alm and Celica's ascension to the joint throne of Valentia spread through the land, people started to travel between Rigel and Zofia. As the soul-marked found their twins, fewer witches were created, until finally there had not been any witches sighted for years.

Sonya never planned to return to the capital, but found herself returning time and again to see Genny. They were inseparable, as close as anyone could be. Though there were rumors that she was seen with Sonya outside the capital, when she was asked she explained that they were simply practicing a new kind of magic. The secret was kept for years thanks to Genny saying that her heart belonged to a mystery man, but finally their relationship was discovered when Celica confirmed her long-held suspicions when she discovered them kissing on a moonlit balcony.

They married the following spring, and lived out their days together in the peaceful kingdom of Valentia.


End file.
